Wake Up Fighting
by awolfsbane
Summary: The Nemeton isn't the only thing drawing people to town. When Savannah Delaine inherits a house, and she's left with no other options, she moves to Beacon Hills. Things haven't been alright for a long time, but this is her chance for a fresh start. Except her past won't stay in her past, and she can't explain what's been happening to her. Bad at summaries. Give this a try, friend.
1. Some Things You Can't Explain

Hey guys! This is the first chapter of my long planned story for Teen Wolf, starring an OC, which I love writing. I've been working on it for a while and only now decided I was going to put it up on the internet somewhere. I probably wouldn't have been able to (because I didn't think there was an interest) if I hadn't read the incredible (and still on-going) stories Blood in the Water and Black Water by it-belongs-in-a-museum. If you haven't read them, go read them now because they're super well realized and detailed and I could gush about them for like, years but I won't. I would only hope to reach the level of world she's built around her OC and wait, I said I wouldn't gush. I tend to have commitment issues with stories so I can't promise how long this story will go on, but it's just something I've been toying with for while and want some feed back on it. This story picks up at the beginning of Season 3, and anything familiar is obviously based on actual canon TW which I don't own, blah blah blah, mandatory nonsense. Let me know what you think! [Also the name is based on a trope, because I've been way too in to tropes for a long time now.]

_Savannah squinted down at the papers laid out in front of her, thinking that given a little more concentration, the formulas would make a little more sense. Unfortunately, the only thing that she accomplished was giving herself a headache and she dropped her head roughly on the book in front of her with a loud groan. She tried to let the music playing gently in the background soothe her throbbing temples, but that wasn't helping any either so she slammed the book closed and paused the music, grabbing the remote and flipping on the television. Maybe what she needed was a study break. She'd been trying to do these problems for a solid twenty-three minutes and if that didn't merit a break, she didn't know what did._

_ She scanned impatiently through the channels, looking for something she could stand long enough to relax to. She settled on the local news and headed for her dresser to find some aspirin. She'd been getting these headaches more and more lately, sometimes so severely she was immobilized, left to curl up in bed and wait for them to subside. Finally finding the bottle, she dumped three pink pills into her hand and threw them into her mouth, indelicately swallowing them with a gulp and with water dribbling down her chin. She plopped back down on her bed and checked her phone only to find a blank screen. _

_Glancing back up at the television was reflex. She didn't know what had caught her attention in the first place. Was it the harsh words of the anchor or the caption across the screen – "Mutilated body found in desert; yet to be identified." Honestly, bodies in the desert were in no short supply, most dating back to the rat pack days when control of the strip was a prize the mob constantly warred over. Even now, some poor sap was found almost every other week and it felt uncaring to say, yet it was true, that no one really flinched at the news. But mutilated? What did that entail? How often were gangsters found mutilated?_

_Now her attention was captured and she turned up the volume and crawled forward, resting her head on her hands. Ah. By mutilated they meant most likely by wild animals, and by wild animals they most likely meant coyotes. She had never liked the animals. In an effort to identify the man, they would show a facial reconstruction, and if anyone could help identify the man, the anchor reported, the police would be grateful. Please, the pretty blonde woman said, we only hope to bring peace to this man's family. A number scrawled across the bottom of the screen as a professional drawing came into focus. Savannah's breath caught in her throat. _

_The piercing eyes. The slightly crooked nose. The distinctive split in hair that she knew was dark brown. But it couldn't be. Could it? She jolted into a sitting position and tried not to jump to conclusions. She stared down the drawing on the screen and shook her head, but for all the doubt her brain tried to logically instill, she just knew somehow that it was him. _

"_Selene!" she called out suddenly, needing confirmation that her suspicion was accurate, "Selene!" She waited for a moment but no response sounded back from down the stairs. She sighed and realized that her mother was standing firm on her promise to only reply if she stopped using her first name. "Mom!" she finally shouted, conceding if only to get an answer._

"_Yes?" Her mother called back, annoyance heavy in her voice. Savannah hesitated for a moment before proceeding, not looking forward to her mother's reaction if her hunch was correct. "Turn on channel 15." Then a pause, and "Don't ask why. Just do it."_

_She could have sworn she heard her mother sigh but the television clicked on all the same, and segments of clipped voices signaled her nearing the proper channel. Another pause. And then a gut-wrenching scream. And another. Then sobbing. Then the too combined into a wet sounding yell and she knew she had been right from the second she saw him._

_Wasn't he supposed to be on a business trip? Why would he even be out that far in the desert and how could he possibly have been in a position to be mauled by a coyote? Could her mother hold it together without him? She stared at the television as the image disappeared and questions filled her head. Her own image in the mirror by her bed caught her eye now, and the pensive look she wore turned into one of disgust. The worst question she had kept tumbling around in her brain until she couldn't stand her reflection anymore. How sick of a person do you have to be to feel relieved when you learn the body of your mutilated step-father has been found in the desert? Even if you hated the prick, how twisted did you have to be to take comfort in the fact that he would never come home? How evil did you have to be to feel glad?_

"If you're just tuning in, this is Slim Jimmy with KCXX 103.9, California's number one station for alternative rock! It's six o'clock and an hour of music, commercial-free is about to begin, but first a word from our sponsors!" A rather annoying voice chirped from the stereo system as Savannah was stirred abruptly from her nap. She groaned and rubbed her eyes, trying to rub away the foggy feeling naps always gave her. Not that she minded all that much that her sleep had been interrupted, as the crackling voice of the announcer had stirred her from yet another one of her disturbingly realistic dreams. At least this one was her own memory and a rather tame one at that, and she'd take this dream over the nightmares she'd been experiencing any day.

She leaned back against the head rest and closed her eyes against the intolerably bright sun, fumbling around blindly for the box of cheerios next to her. She scooped up a handful of the dry cereal and shoveled it into her mouth. Despite the fact that she clearly hadn't gotten even half the amount of sleep she had intended to get, she knew she should get back on the road anyway. She still didn't know how much work the house she was headed towards would need before it was inhabitable and the first day of the new school year was tomorrow. Not only was it a new school year, but it was a new school entirely, in a new town, in a new state, full of new people. All of the unfamiliarity she was preparing herself for made her head spin and her stomach lurch and anxiety build up in her chest. But she had put off the move for long enough, and she knew she couldn't put this off any longer.

She turned the ignition and felt her truck rumble to life faithfully, the air conditioning blasting her in the face and the volume of the radio doubling. She took a deep anticipatory breath as she shifted the car into drive and pulled out of the rest stop she had pulled over in a few hours ago. She had been driving for six hours straight and now with three hours left to go, she was, for lack of a better term, in the home stretch of her journey. Savannah rolled back her shoulders and slipped her aviator sunglasses down onto the bridge of her nose, cranking up the volume of the radio even louder as a particularly catchy Black Keys song began to play. Bobbing her head along with the music and singing an occasional lyric helped distract her some, but her mind was elsewhere.

The highway was a blur on either side of her as mile markers passed by quickly. Every so often she'd stuff another handful of cereal into her mouth or fiddle with the air control, or pass through all the radio stations until she found satisfactory tunes, but in the monotony, she closed the distance between herself and her destination faster than she'd anticipated. After a questioning glance or two at the directions and a few exits, she found herself squinting at a sign in the distance and she left out a sigh of relief as it became clear – "Welcome to Beacon Hills."

She looked around at the town spread out in front of her, and truthfully, she was what she would kindly call underwhelmed. Granted she was coming from Las Vegas, where the night was lit up so bright that you couldn't see a star for miles and where drunks and gamblers and showgirls constantly filtered along the too-bright streets and, she reminded herself, _where bodies were found mutilated in the desert_. But despite the drastic change, the town felt a little lifeless, and there were a lot more pine trees than she expected.

'_I thought California was supposed to be all sunshine and rainbows,' _she thought as she shivered, switching off the air conditioner and wondering why she hadn't noticed the shift in weather before. This was not how she expected the end of August to feel, with the temperature changing so drastically day to day. But once again, she was comparing her old home to her new - Vegas was all scorching heat and pounding sun, leaving her sense of temperature a little skewed. The low sixties sounded uncomfortably chilly to her if she were being perfectly honest, and even she could understand that that was ridiculous. She'd never been good with change. In fact, she'd always resisted it, fighting tooth and nail for things to remain the same but often, in the end, it didn't make a difference. Change was inevitable. Maybe_ this_ change would help her work out some of the other_ things_ she'd been experiencing lately.

Despite the anxiety remaining firmly in her chest, it was a comfort knowing that at last, she had arrived. She even felt a little giddy. Maybe it was the lack of sleep. Regardless of the cause, not even the poor weather could sour her mood. Perhaps a storm was on the horizon. The suddenly grey skies and absence of sun felt slightly ominous, but fuck it, she couldn't care less as she neared her new home.

She pulled up to a red light and absentmindedly changed the song playing, while in front of her, two cars seemed to be having some sort of awkward exchange. The light couldn't change fast enough and one car, the one in front of her, sped off. She wasted no time in following, anxious to get off the road. She did manage to spare a glance at the two boys in the car next to her who seemed to be arguing. She gave them a quizzical look as she passed and seconds later, they followed.

Savannah shoved yet more Cheerios into her mouth to quiet her growling stomach, and focused her stinging eyes back on the road. She passed the small car in front of her and turned on the heat after yet another shiver, causing her truck to growl almost angrily. The sound began to grow though, much louder than it had ever before. A low rumble rose up over the sounds of the whining engine, and a scene from Jurassic Park sprung forth into her mind. She checked her mirrors, trying to find the source of the noise but saw nothing out of the ordinary. Out of nowhere, a shape rose up in the distance, a shape that grew by the second, even when she decreased her speed and turned on her high beams. Maybe if she'd gotten those extra hours of sleep, she would've made sense of the scene quicker, but without them, she was sluggish and could almost feel the gears in her brain turning and trying to come up with a viable explanation. The shape was getting bigger, and when she finally realized that it was running towards her, she had precious seconds to lay on her horn and swerve. She had hoped to alert the other drivers, but only succeeded in sending her truck careening into the bushes.

Branches scratched against the rusted brown paint and the sound of a scraping bumper made her grind her teeth together as the truck came to a stop. She groaned loudly as she brushed at the bruise surely forming on her head, poking the place where it had hit the steering wheel none too gracefully. A woman was screaming behind her, reminding her that she wasn't the only one who had just seen a deer sprinting down the middle of the road. At least she could be comforted by the fact that she wasn't crazy.

She unbuckled herself and headed towards the screaming, which had all but quieted down. Four teenagers, whom she guessed where around her age, stood around the smaller of the two cars. A tiny redhead, the screamer, was gesturing frantically at the deer protruding from the front end. The deer had lodged itself into the windshield, each antler snapped in half and dangling from its bloody head. One glazed over wild eye stared through her while the other rolled around on the dashboard. All four teenagers looked shaken but otherwise uninjured.

She stepped behind a tree and leaned back against its trunk. They hadn't seen her yet, and maybe it would just be easier to get back into her truck. Half of the group, two teenage boys, had even successfully removed the deer from the front of the car. Savannah didn't have to get involved at all really if they were all okay, and besides, this wasn't exactly a charming introduction. '_So, we just got stampeded by a rabid deer like we're in Jumanji. Do you want to be pals?'_ She sighed loudly in spite of herself, causing the head of the boy nearest to her to snap in her direction, as if he had heard her. How he possibly could have she wasn't sure. He urged the two girls who had driven the now wrecked car to get back inside it and drive home. One seemed to put up a fight, but the other shoved her into the passenger's side and they sped away. The two remaining boys began making their way towards her, and she figured now was her opportunity to make her presence known. She pushed herself off the trunk and spun around to face the two. She was a little dizzy but steadied herself as she took in the two boys in front of her.

One was tanned with eyes that were almost glowing in the last rays of light cast by the sun while the other was pale and freckled in plaid. At another time, she might have thought to herself that they were both rather attractive, and of course she'd have to crash her truck in front of guys who were _attractive _because that was just the kind of luck she was used to. But all she could think about now was the damage to her precious truck and how much her head was aching from the collision.

"Are you alright?" Glowing eyes asked, stepping towards her a little hesitantly but with what looked like sincerity in his eyes.

"I'm fine. I will be anyway. How are your friends? I wanted to make sure that deer didn't skewer them or anything like that."

"You're bleeding." The same boy told her, ignoring her question and gesturing toward her head.

"Am I?" She asked, wiping the red from her brow. The boy took another step towards her, looking concerned. "I'm fine, honestly. It's just a scratch." She looked down uncomfortably and wanted to crack a joke, but her head really was pounding.

"How's your car?" The other boy questioned, finally speaking up.

"I'm a lot more worried about it than me. I mean, I know it looks like a piece of junk, but…" she trailed off, glancing back at the truck. "You know, you probably won't even be able to see the damage. Might look the same as before I decided to become a landscaper." Savannah finished, as she gestured towards the split bushes her car was currently crushing under its tires. Both boys smiled as she glanced down at her cell phone. "If you're alright, then uh, I really have to go. First day of school's tomorrow and I'm sure this concussion I no doubt have will make it just, just, so much better. See ya later, boys." She said with a smile and turned away, heading for her truck.

"Who was that?" She heard glowing eyes ask his friend as she walked away. Maybe he thought she was out of ear shot but her hearing had gotten strangely acute over the last couple of months, so she slowed down her pace a little to hear the conversation.

"Guess we'll find out tomorrow. This is going to be a good year, I can just feel it." He responded, digging through his pockets until she heard the jingle of car keys.

"That's not all you want to feel." glowing eyes countered, earning himself a gentle punch from his friend as he let out a low laugh and rolled his eyes.

She shook her head and gave them a knowing smile from over her shoulder, causing them both to look a little stunned and embarrassed. '_Boys.'_

* * *

><p>"Good god." Savannah muttered under her breath as she pulled up the dirt driveway that led to her new home. It towered over her truck like this was some half-assed horror movie and she could almost hear the pluck of violin strings in a suspense building orchestra number as she pedaled the break and shifted into park. She turned off the truck and stepped out to take a better look at the exterior of the house, finding that once again, like when she first drove into this town, she was underwhelmed.<p>

As she stared down the dilapidated building that was to become her new home, she let out a sigh of pure exhaustion. It was almost immediately clear that she would have a long line of repairs in her future, and she was glad now more than ever she had sent a plumber here a few weeks ago to ensure she'd at least have running water.

The crescent moon seemed abnormally bright as it shone down through the leaves, scattering its rays across the forest floor and illuminating the dust that was thick in the air surrounding the house. She wouldn't be surprised if it was all that held the old home together. At one time this place must have been beautiful, when it was cared for and full of life, with sun shining brightly onto its two stories like a spread straight out of _Home & Garden_. She could almost imagine a hammock swinging, gently strung up between the trees, and sheets billowing on a wash-line, but those days were long gone, and though it still stood in the same spot, the house was now only a shadow of its former self. She could almost laugh at the irony. Almost.

Leaning back to rest on her truck, she found herself not knowing exactly how to feel about this place. Should she be glad she had somewhere to go or eternally skeeved by the qualities this place shared with your more traditional haunted houses? Should she question again why she had never heard stories of the family that lived here? So yes, maybe the deed was left to her by some long dead relative, and yes, she had nowhere else to go, and yes, she was _really_ trying not to look a gift horse in the mouth here, but still… She was hesitant to even step inside much less stick out a 'home sweet home' doormat. She made a note to, in the future, always ask for a _recent_ picture before she took off to start a new life after being willed some sort of property.

Perhaps, along with the plumber, she should have sent someone from the county to test the structural integrity of the place, as it almost seemed to sway when a gust of wind blew through, blowing hair into her face and causing her to shiver. Then again, she was also standing in the middle of the woods, another bonus of her new home, with few houses around for miles, so although it _was_ getting rather chilly, she would also call her current surroundings rather shiver-inducing. She glanced over her shoulder into the night, and she almost could have sworn she heard a howl rise up somewhere in the distance, but that was stupid, because she was tired and there was nothing in California that was capable of howling. She had looked it up. After the incident that happened to her step-father, some of her worst nightmares were of the attack, with the coyotes that did him in often securing a starring role. Just the thought of her nightmares made her suddenly uneasy and noticing her sweating, tightly clenched palms, she decided in that moment that she couldn't stand there any longer.

She made for the passenger side door to grab her bag, shoving in everything that had tumbled down on to the floor mat. Though she had shipped most of her belongings down a few weeks ago to be stored in some facility, she was incredibly glad she had the forethought to bring a sleeping bag and pillow, having no idea what waited for her inside. She also scooped up the box of Cheerios, tucking them under her arm as she reached for the glove compartment. She unlatched it to pull out the manila envelope with all the paper work inside and slid out the lone silver key for the door.

She winced as she put a foot cautiously on the first step leading up to the porch, and though it let out a loud groan, it thankfully didn't give in. The wood creaked rather loudly as she made her way up the steps, protesting the weight of footfalls it hadn't supported in what was probably a long time. She was just glad she didn't fall straight through the dry-rotted planks and chose her moves carefully as she neared the door. An old rusted knocker stared her down as she reached for the knob, and positioned the key. She took a deep breath and fed it into the lock. With a click, it was open and she pushed into the pitch black entry way. Her hand fumbled on the wall, desperately looking for a light switch as her eyes adjusted to the dark that lay before her. Her fingers brushed over it and without warning the room was lit by a single bulb that swung from the ceiling. She felt her stomach lurch as she stared at the swaying light and she could hardly pull her eyes away as shadows leaped around the room. When she finally wrenched her focus off of it, she took in her surroundings.

Directly in front of her, she was greeted with a wood paneled hallway, seeming to immediately split the house in two, a staircase leading to the second floor on the right and a large living room branching off to the left. Although every instinct she had pushed her to investigate the strange new place, her head still hurt from the accident and exhaustion weighed heavily on her eyelids. She veered left into the living room.

Though the windows were boarded, and it was rather empty, it was far cleaner than she had expected, almost as if someone had been taking care of it all of these years it sat abandoned. It didn't just feel clean though. It felt maintained. A brown, Victorian looking couch was positioned against the far wall next to an old wooden end table, and a large patterned rug was spread across most of the floor. Besides these few furnishings, there were only thin fabric curtains, various vintage posters, assorted bottles lining the mantle of the fireplace, and a wall with curiously bare mounts, like the ones that usually held a hunter's trophy. The mounts, maybe ten or fifteen of them, each displayed a set of antlers, a name and a year carved underneath them. They seemed ancient, the oldest being from 1927 and the most recent and also the largest pair, were from 1990. From the décor, it was hard to believe that anyone had lived in this house after the 1940's, but the relatively clean nature of the place led credence to this. Why had her mother never spoken about whoever had lived here? Why did she hardly speak of her family _at all_?

An open door on the adjacent wall led to a small bathroom, and she headed towards it to appraise the plumber's handy work. Flicking on the light, she gave the room a once over. It was clean enough to use, which again was confusing, but saved her the hassle of scrubbing away twenty year old dirt, and she appreciated that immensely. The water came out of the faucet and showerhead just like it should, and she positioned herself over the sink to stare at her reflection in the mirror.

So here she was. She had no idea what the rest of the house would look like, but for now, with these two rooms at least, she had dodged a bullet. There were no feral animals burrowed into torn up armchairs, or weird smells that would never entirely dissipate, or plants wedging their way up through the floor boards. There was hot water and a place to lay her sleeping bag down for the night and that, at this point, was all she could ask for. She'd tape up the cut on her head, gulp down some more Cheerios, and get some rest. The remaining unexplored bits of the house would still be there to deal with later.

She splashed cold water onto her face and inspected the angry lump that was forming slightly above her left eyebrow. Heading into the living room, she retrieved the plastic bag full of supplies she had gotten at the first 7/11 she could find and pulled out a roll of gauze and medical tape. As she opened the gauze, questions again began swimming through her mind like they so often did. Was she really prepared for this? Was she prepared for tomorrow? She hadn't been to school in almost half a year, and that was if you didn't count the summer. She was supposed to start a whole new life here, and was she really ready to do that? Her brain immediately reasoned that no, in fact, she wasn't ready for that, and that no way in hell did she have the energy for that, but that wouldn't really matter. Her new life here _did _start tomorrow, whether she was ready for it or not. To hell with tonight, and the weird deer incident, and the scary house that left her in the woods all by herself. She was going to make Beacon Hills her new home – even if it killed her. She gulped as she secured the gauze over her clotted cut. Hopefully it wouldn't come to that.


	2. How To Begin Again

**Hey! So this chapter is ridiculously long, like almost three times the first one, but this might be the average chapter length from now on. It took quite a while to find the time to do this, but I didn't want to post it any other way. So after you read this, I'm going to AGAIN tell you to go read the Teen Wolf stories by it-belongs-in-a-museum, who I don't know personally but I literally love her stories enough that I've got to plug them. I also love how immersive her stories are, and because of this I might also be posting outfits I see Savannah wearing in each chapter on my polyvore (awolfsbane) so check those out! So read and please review! [No I don't own Teen Wolf and you know this.]**

_Well this wasn't right. One moment she's curling up in her sleeping bag, trying to find comfort on the hardwood floor, and the next she finds herself standing in the middle of the highway. She looks left, then right and sees nothing but the open road and oak trees that are casting long shadows onto the asphalt. Her truck is nowhere to be seen. Did she walk here? Maybe she had parked somewhere up the road, and with a nod, she began to head in the direction she knew town to be. Wait. This wasn't right either. Why wasn't she walking?_

_ Her eyes dropped down to her feet immediately. Nothing looked out of the ordinary. All there was to see were her brown boots staring back up at her, yet still she couldn't move them. She couldn't even manage a toe twitch. It was as if they were incased in concrete, feeling heavy and impossible to lift no matter how much she strained her muscles to make it so. She crouched down and pinched her toes with no spectacular results, noting that she hadn't lost feeling in them but even when she made to pry up her foot with her hands, she was unable to budge. These boots obviously weren't made for walking and she stared down at them trying to make sense of what was happening here._

_Suddenly she sensed something around her had changed and she glanced up to the now full moon filling the sky. It was the brightest moon she had ever seen and it lit the ground almost as if it were the sun and it was daytime. No longer were the shadows of trees sprawled across the road, and where each tree stood just seconds ago, now only a stump resided in its place, like they had all been chopped down in an instant. Thick roots grew from the stumps, taking the place of the shadows as they busted through the asphalt, fissures splitting the road in front of her. Her head whipped from side to side as the cracking came closer, sure that the ground would open up and swallow her whole. But then the roots stopped growing and the cracking stopped, well… cracking, and these sounds were replaced by a steady clattering that echoed off in the distance. She squinted at the strange new sound, hoping that somehow this would help her see what was causing the noise. She gulped as the thing moved nearer and when it finally came into view, she tried again, desperately this time, to lift her feet from their spot. This still proved ineffective and she lifted her head to face the deer that was again charging towards her. _

_How much damage could a deer possibly cause? She had almost convinced herself that this wasn't as bad as she at first made it out to be, but then her words from earlier crossed her mind - _How are your friends? I wanted to make sure that deer didn't skewer them – _and she was back to full panic mode. With every passing second, the deer covered an impossible amount of ground, and she fell to her knees now, crawling away her last option. Her calf muscles burned as she tried to drag them behind her, but the deer was mere feet away now, a crazed look in its eyes as it reared up over her. She threw her arms up defensively and let out a startled gasp._

Then all at once she was back in her sleeping bag, alarm blaring next to her head and hair glued to her face with sweat. It took her a moment to catch her breath – a moment filled with frantic looks as she tried to calm down and get her bearings. She was laying on an unfamiliar floor in an unfamiliar room. When did she leave the hotel? Where was she _now_?

In seconds it came back to her and she sighed, feeling like an idiot even though she was the only witness to her idiocy. Right, she reminded herself. Of course. This was her new house. Her breathing began to regulate and she rubbed the sleep from her eyes. She absentmindedly made to swipe her brow and gasped again as she brushed the swelled cut from the night before. The phone next to her still buzzed mockingly, almost saying that no matter what was happening in her head or in her dreams, life was still going on around her.

There was a time back before everything went to hell that she would have easily rolled back into bed, promising herself just five more minutes of sleep. Those days were gone now, and every time she woke up, for a little while after, she was hesitant to go back to sleep ever again.

She pushed herself up and grabbed her bag, making her way blearily to the bathroom to jump into the shower. She turned the handles, fiddling with them until the water felt as if it was on its way to a satisfyingly hot temperature, then leaned back to rest on the counter top. Her phone beeped again next to her and she shook her head as she opened the message.

"Ephemeral - Lasting for a very short time; transient; momentary." She read aloud, glancing up into the mirror to pull off her bandage and staring down the bruise rising off of her forehead. "If only." She muttered and turned away, removing her clothes to step into the shower. She tilted her head back into the stream and let the water run down over her face, trying to prepare herself for the day ahead of her. Today, she told herself, would be a better day than the one before it. She'd keep the snark to a minimum and she'd keep the weirdness under control and everything would work out just fine. It was her choice, she thought, whether or not the new school anxiety building in her chest would linger or whether it would be _ephemeral._ She was tempted to roll her eyes at herself even if the sentiment did ring true.

She was pulled from her thoughts when the pipes groaned loudly, a jet of freezing cold water hitting her square in the face. Trying not to fall in the process, she jumped back, snapping her eyes shut and spluttering awkwardly to deal with the sudden shift in temperature. She sighed and put her temple to the wall, waiting as patiently as she could for the hot water to return. The pipes began groaning again, which seemed like a good thing, but as the sound became louder and louder, she could only step further back and tilt her head in confusion. The groaning was all around her now and she clapped her hands over her ears in an attempt to block out the low steady thrumming building in her head. The sound was overwhelming her and she collapsed to her knees, tucking her head down to the ground and making herself as small as possible. The room felt like it was almost vibrating and she was sure her head was about to explode when as quickly as it had begun, the groan stopped. The cold water edging at her toes was hot again and she tilted her head up to see that everything was just as it had been. Cautiously, she stood up and moved forwards, peeking out from behind the glass door of the shower. Nothing.

Shit. This was not happening. What new hell-sent symptom was this? When the headaches she'd been plagued with for months stopped and the nightmares began, she figured a good trade-off had been made. Sure, she was now subject to mind-numbing terror every time she closed her eyes that occasionally crossed over into the waking world, but she didn't have to deal with pain that felt like it was literally trying to split her skull in half. But now, this was the third time in a week that she was almost deafened by an otherwise innocuous noise. The first time she brushed it off as her imagination, the second time was just a fluke, but a third time? That was a pattern. Shit. This was not happening. Shit, shit, shit. Well, she didn't have time to deal with this. She had a new life to get ready for damn it, and that was her priority.

"Today will be better than yesterday." She reminded herself, sticking her head under the water. "Today will be better than yesterday."

So this is what it felt like to be back on a school campus again. Nerve-wracking, a little claustrophobic, and anxiety inducing. She was all for trying something new but permanent change made her squirm, and this was the biggest, strike that, _only_ change of scenery she had ever made in her life. She straightened her skirt in a rather uncouth manner and took a deep breath, steeling her nerves as she walked to the big double doors that led into the school. Students swarmed around her and she suddenly felt like all of their eyes were locked onto her, even if in fact, they weren't. She swallowed nervously, keeping her own eyes glued to the doors in front of her and keeping her patented uninterested expression firmly in place.

_ Don't trip, you idiot. Don't trip and you got this._ She told herself repeatedly as heads around her kept whipping in her direction, curious expressions etched in place. Normally she wasn't someone who cared all that much about reputations and what people whispered about her under their breath, but right now, what was important to her was a fresh start, so she kept her head down and pretended that they weren't staring. It could probably be chalked up to the fact that people weren't exactly flocking to make a home in the rather dull Beacon Hills. That no doubt made new students few and far between – each arrival some kind of spectacle. Their staring had nothing to do with the damaged state of her truck or the damaged state of her forehead, she told herself. At least she was sure that here, away from her old school, that the staring had nothing to do with her past. She hiked her messenger bag higher up onto her shoulder almost like a shield as she finally reached the double doors. She glanced around, noticing that she still had the attention of the other students, and that she couldn't fumble on the play this early in the game.

A hand wrapped almost confidently around each handle and swung the doors open dramatically. She stepped through as they closed with a bang behind her. Her heart was pounding in her chest but she was glad to know she had successfully made it into the school without face-planting or doing something else equally ridiculous. Nerves made her clumsy. Nerves also tended to make her more ballsy. She could make this work.

Now for the next task in her hero's journey – find the office. At this point, she had two options for how to proceed. She could wander around, probably make an ass of herself, hoping to stumble into the office sooner rather than later, or she could ask someone where it was. Although she loathed asking for directions, it seemed like the best option for the time being, so she bit the bullet and looked through the crowd filling in around her for someone who looked both the least likely to blow her off and the most approachable. She quickly settled on a tall, dark haired boy in a blue V-neck hanging a mirror on the inside of his locker. She held back a smile as he fiddled uncertainly with a container of hair gel, images of her best friend Lucas coming to mind, and she was immediately glad of her choice.

"If you ask me, I'd cool it with the gel. Sculpt that hair anymore and you'll need a chisel." She said, making sure she didn't come off sounding harsh as she leaned on the lockers next to the boy.

"Nervous habit." He said with an unsure smile as he capped the gel and put it away but continued to shape his hair. "You're new then?" he asked, not taking his eyes off of the mirror.

"Guilty." Savannah answered, spinning to face him, narrowing her eyes as he straightened imaginary wrinkles out of his shirt and brushed imaginary lint from his jeans. He finally looked up to meet her eyes, probably realizing that to her, he looked a little obsessive. His face immediately became apologetic and he now put on a genuine smile, seemingly waving off his insecurities.

"Sorry. My best friend is usually here to make sure I don't look like an idiot. This is kind of my first 'first day' without him." He closed his locker and widened his smile, perfectly straight white teeth blinding her a little.

"I know the feeling actually." She said, teeth gnawing on her bottom lip as she instinctively pulled up her bag again. He nodded, looking sympathetic as he pushed himself off the lockers and began making his way down the hall, gesturing her to follow.

"New schools are the worst. I moved a lot when I was little. My dad was in the military. I'm Danny, by the way."

"Sav." She said, pushing her way through the crowd until she was next to him. "I've never really done this before. The whole, new town, new school, hit the restart button thing. Am I supposed to feel this stupid?"

"Comes with the territory." He told her honestly, waving at a girl who called out his name. "But you'll get used to it in no time. And plus, you're pretty. Making friends shouldn't be a problem."

"Pretty, huh?" she said skeptically, raising an eyebrow. "So I shouldn't be crossing my fingers that the boys here are into super gnarly scars?" As she gestured to her bandage, she noticed that they'd come to a stop. A sign on the door in front of them told her that this was the office, and without even asking for guidance, she had ended up at her destination.

"Aw, Danny. How did you know?" she asked as if she'd just open up the perfect present and he rolled his eyes good-naturedly.

"Good luck." He told her, pointing to the door, "And good luck." He repeated, pointing to her forehead. He turned away, heading for what was probably his first class, leaving her alone to face the principal. She reached tentatively for the door knob but two faces on a bulletin board caught her eye. Maybe it was the familiarity of a missing poster, or maybe she was subconsciously looking for a distraction, but never the less, she found the school pictures of two students smiling back at her. One, a blonde, smiled too wide, a little awkward but with kind eyes, the other an African-American boy whose smile was more reserved, more forced and rather empty. She was named Erica. He was Boyd. She read down the posters, squinting at the pair, the curiosity she was prone to rising to the surface as she wondered what circumstances lead to their faces plastered on this bulletin board.

The door next to her swung open, pulling her from her thoughts. Right. She wasn't class detective today. She was supposed to be the new student and that's it.

Stepping into the office made her feel a little less out of place. For some reason, the office in every school seemed to look the same and it was rather comforting to see the familiar layout as she headed to another door labeled principal, past an empty secretary's desk and a waiting area. The door was wide open and a man's voice spilled out. He seemed to be talking about the library's destruction and his plan's to fix it. Wait, destruction? Maybe she was crazy but the way the man was talking, it didn't exactly seem like it was the _normal_ type of destruction.

_Was_ there a _normal_ type? Natural disasters or vehicle accidents perhaps were the _most_ normal type, but if those were the case, why did he sound so confused about what had happened?

"And what the hell is this?" The man's voice asked, a heavy thump punctuating the question. As she rounded the corner, a man she assumed was the principal came into view and immediately her eyes widened almost comically. A rather stuffy looking man somewhere in his forties stood behind a desk, looking exactly as you'd expect a principal to look. His brown tweed suit was rather crumpled, circular glasses rested on the brim of his nose, and his arms strained as he lifted a large, gleaming broadsword from under the desk. Wait, broadsword?!

"Whatever happened to good, old-fashioned detention?" She said spluttering, unable to take her eyes off the giant weapon hoisted into the air.

"Oh, for god's sake!" He exclaimed, "Susan!" A young woman next to him put on a practiced smile and hustled forward, ushering her out of the office and towards the waiting area with her clipboard. She pointed to a chair, indicating for her to take a seat then rushed back to the office. Well, that was odd, right? It wasn't every day you walked in on the principal practicing for his role in the renaissance fair. As far as she was concerned, more administrators should carry swords. It was kind of brilliant. Although in all honesty she probably would have been beheaded or gutted or de-limbed several times over by now.

The clacking of heels on the tile floors told her the secretary was returning, and she tried her hardest to bite back the laugh that threatened to emerge.

"He'll see you now." The woman, she thought maybe he'd called her Susan, informed her primly, taking her seat behind the desk. It seemed as if she'd have to keep biting her tongue, as it would most likely only get more ridiculous from here on out. Savannah stood, making her way back to the office where the principal now sat calmly behind his desk, papers strewn all over but broadsword tucked somewhere safe and out of sight.

"You must be Savannah." He began as she took the seat facing his desk, nodding in confirmation. "I was warned you'd be arriving today." The use of the word warned wasn't lost on her as she wriggled in her seat uncomfortably. She wasn't always the most well behaved student but wasn't this supposed to be a fresh start?

"Unfortunately, no one warned _me_ that the staff here was armed." She replied, a challenging edge to her voice as she leaned back in the chair, not willing to let the moment go. "Your no bullying policy must be killer." He cleared his throat, avoiding eye contact as he rummaged around, finally grabbing a folder and sliding it across the desk.

"This is your schedule, a map, your locker number and combination – new student stuff like that. Do you have any questions?" It seemed that he was really trying to get rid of her, but now she wasn't the only one squirming and she relished the role swap too much to give up.

"Are swords mandatory or optional? Seems a little outdated to me."

With a heavy sigh, he asked, "Any serious questions?" She thought it over for a second, remembering his words from earlier.

"What happened to the library?" She pried, not missing a beat. He side-eyed his watch, looking disappointed that the bell was minutes from ringing and unable to give him an easy out.

"Electrical accident." He rushed out, and then, "Is that all?" Well that was a lie if she ever heard one. Was she really expected to believe that? He could give her a little credit at least, no matter what he had read about her in her file, or what her old teachers had said about her. One final question tugged at her, and even if she didn't expect an honest answer, her curiosity drove her to ask anyway.

"Those missing kids. What's their story? Does anyone know anything yet?" She watched him carefully, watched his eyes dilate, noticed his heart beat skip a beat as his pulse thudded heavily in his neck, and somehow she knew he was getting ready to lie again. But she wasn't about to let that happen. She was sure to make eye contact with him, then glanced over to the closet on the opposite wall. "This your armory, sir?" she asked, pretending to stand. His eyes grew and he shook his head.

"That sword wasn't mine! It was left by my replacement, er, I mean, my fill-in." Now he was on the edge of a ramble, and she leaned back in her seat again, waiting to see if he could recover or – "Look, no one's heard anything about where those kids disappeared to, and no one's really looking for them. Loners. Losers, the both of them. Didn't have any friends until they started hanging out with each other. They probably just ran off together or something. What's it to you, anyway?"

She was stunned a little speechless by his outburst and could only manage a deep breath that she couldn't seem to let out. His expression had darkened noticeably and she'd realized she'd pushed him too far. When she first came in, she hadn't noticed the resemblance, but the way his eyebrows were scrunched tightly with annoyance and the tight frown his lips were set in made her see it all too clearly. He wasn't the man he resembled. She knew that. That man was dead. But it wasn't hard for her to spot men like him. Not anymore. Her lungs ached in her chest as she stared him down.

Seeing he wasn't going to get an answer, he stood up, ending the conversation. "That's all. You're free to go."

She nodded and put on her most convincing smile. Besides the resemblance, the man's words had left her feeling rather slimy. Was it true that no one at all cared about those kids? She wasn't so naïve to think that most in this profession really strived to put the pal in principal, but a basic concern for human life was a requirement, wasn't it? It really was none of her business, and she knew she was being too nosy, but hearing this man talk about them, Erica and Boyd, like they didn't matter made her feel a little horrified. She could lie to herself and say she didn't know why she felt so repulsed by his words, but it would be just that – a lie. Now as he stared her down, she could smell the booze on his breath, could almost taste it in the air, and it was suffocating. With all this in mind, she slipped the folder off the desk and made her way out of the office, refusing to look at this man again.

She turned corners quickly as the hallways emptied out, completely forgetting she had somewhere to be as she scrambled to get as far away as possible. She could only bite her tongue for so long before she bit it right off. When the bell rang, she was catching her breath, doubled over against a row of lockers in what looked like an older part of the school. It didn't look to be used much, so her hyperventilating and tightened fists went thankfully unnoticed. She had barely realized her panic until the metal clanging sounded down the desolate hall and she was suddenly aware of where she was. There was nothing for her to do then but to pull herself together, slow her breathing, and remind herself that everything was okay – even if that man did remind her an awful lot of her stepfather.

Savannah thought back to her shower earlier that day, remembering how optimistic she had been. That had never been her style before, and the part of her brain that had told her it was a good idea to give it a try was also probably the dumb part of her brain that couldn't help her now as she wandered almost aimlessly through the school. It wasn't even that big, was it? She traced her finger around the greyscale image a few times before she realized she was reading the already vague map upside down. Were these class rooms even in any kind of order? What kind of school didn't numerically sort their rooms?

She rounded the corner and finally stumbled upon room 217, which could be accredited to dumb luck far more than her cartography skills. But now she was ten minutes late, for her first class of her new school, and while she was no stranger to being fashionably late, she had really hoped to bypass the whole new student introduction part of the day. Now it was her only out and she just hoped the teacher would understand and let it slide. What was his name again? She glanced down at the schedule. Harris. Mr. Harris. Advanced Chemistry. Before she could talk herself out of it, she pushed the door open quickly, the way you'd rip off a Band-Aid.

"And this is the syllabus for the rest of the semester – "A man, most likely Mr. Harris, said before craning slowly to look in her direction as the door slammed a little too loudly behind her. The class followed suit, twenty-some pairs of eyes now focused on her.

"Sorry, I'm, uh, I'm new. I got a little lost." Savannah all but blurted out, then through her nerves, forced a polite smile. To her alarm and surprise, she noticed a narrowing of his rather reptilian eyes and a smarmy looking expression come over him. She suppressed a shiver as she glanced around the room, looking for an open seat. It took a great deal of effort to not bolt when she spotted one, keeping her pace steady as she headed in its direction.

"Ah, ah, ah." The lizard man said, stepping in front of her and swiping a folder from his desk. She suppressed an instinctive eye roll but stopped none the less, actively trying to will herself into the open seat. One seat over, a familiar face caught her attention and for a few seconds, she couldn't place it. She tilted her head in confusion, squinting at him until he caught her glance. Realization sparked in his eyes at the same time it must have sparked in hers, and then she felt stupid for not placing him sooner. It was one of the boys from the night before – the pale freckled one and he stuck his hand up in a slightly awkward wave. She had been so preoccupied with first day nerves that she had almost managed to forget the deer weirdness of the night before, but now it came back to her and she automatically brought her hand to the bandage on her forehead.

"New students should introduce themselves." Mr. Harris said, an edge to his voice that she couldn't quite place. "Especially, ones as…interesting as yourself."

Oh god, what was that supposed to mean? Interesting? What _exactly_ did that file say about her? But fine, if every teacher she came across had read that file, and if they all were going to react like this man seemed to be, then she could play along. But she wasn't planning on letting this guy intimidate her either. A voice in her head made her pause. It told her to think this through. Said that she didn't want to get on the teacher's bad side minutes after stepping foot into his classroom. But that voice was just a whisper.

"Well, I'm nothing if not interesting." She began, turning to face the class and putting on her game face. "Name's Savannah, but uh, most people call me Sav. I'm originally from Las Vegas, and before you ask, yes, I have seen all the casinos and they are just as awesome as they look on TV. Hm…this morning I caught the principal with a broadsword and no that is not a euphemism. Math is my least favorite subject." She said and paused, turning to lock eyes with Mr. Harris, the same polite smile still stretched across her face, "Followed closely by Chemistry." A few students chuckled in front of her, and she swore one even gasped, but Mr. Harris' face didn't change. He still looked unimpressed, unrattled, and indifferent. And probably a few other synonyms she couldn't think of just then.

"Well, you're a lively one, aren't you?" His face never changed, his mouth in a thin line and now she was beginning to get a little more nervous.

"That's what they tell me." She gulped and turned towards the seat, hoping that she was wrong about him. Hoping that he would let her just sit down and continue on with his class. But she was rarely wrong about people. Life had shaped her into an excellent judge of character. So even though she hoped she was wrong…

"Savannah. One more question."

Oh, great. This couldn't be good. Was it – no. Couldn't be. She was never charged for burning down that gymnasium, and their evidence was flimsy at best.

"Judging by your age, am I wrong to assume you should be a senior? It says here that you missed six consecutive months of school. Why is that?" Now the chuckling stopped and the whispering started. She could almost feel a bead of sweat rise up on her forehead because now was the moment of truth. No way could she be honest, unless… No, she definitely didn't want everyone knowing about her past this soon. Actually, she didn't really want them knowing ever. New start and all that. So she feigned innocence and turned to face Harris.

"Is it too much of a stretch to blame it on my winning personality and charm?" She asked as she rocked casually back onto her heels.

"That's hard to believe, as you clearly lack both. And now the real answer." This guy clearly wasn't going to let this go. How was her little sabbatical any of his business?

He took a step forward and raised an eyebrow, so she stepped forward too, feeling like a badger being taunted by a snake.

The boy from the night before seemed to be almost flailing in his seat, looking like he objected to what was going on. He seemed to be the only one though, the others just hanging on her words.

"You have something to say, Mr. Stilinski?" Mr. Harris asked, turning to face the boy who immediately stilled and looked to her for help.

"Trampled by elephants." She interrupted, no hesitation in her voice. "Joined the circus. Epic martial arts battle. Kidnapped by pirates. Climbed Everest. Does it matter? Honestly, Mr. Harris, I'm not exactly comfortable sharing." She felt annoyance bubble to the surface even as a little vulnerability leaked into her voice. She never had much of a threshold for authority figures acting like her respect was deserved no matter their demeanor. She had taken enough psychology classes to know that it could probably be traced back to a source, but knowing the why didn't help her any. The little voice, maybe it was her common sense, maybe not, was now almost screaming at her to keep her cool and just get to her seat.

"Maybe it's something we could discuss in detention after school today." He told her, taking a seat at his desk, backing down for the moment, thinking he had won because he could hand out detentions like a power hungry traffic cop hands out tickets. But she hadn't run a light, and she wasn't speeding. He was out of line, and she knew the way to shut him up for good. She could tell the truth. The voice was quiet.

"Fine. You got me, Mr. Harris. Truth is, I was too busy to come to school. Funerals take a lot of planning." She paused, keeping her voice steady as she was hit with a wave of regret. "You see, when my stepdad died, he didn't have a plot picked out. You'd think my mom would've been able to handle that stuff, but seeing as she died a few days after he did, all of that stuff, it sort of fell on me. You seem to be a pretty thorough teacher though, so should I bring you the death certificates, or is my word good enough?" Another pause. More whispers. Then dead silence. "Can I sit down now?"

Again, she had expected the man to be surprised or ashamed or guilty, but he didn't seem to be. If anything, he looked the smallest bit embarrassed, and with nothing else to say, he nodded then turned to write on the board.

Her hands were shaking and the reality sank into her stomach immediately. She felt naked and exposed, one of her biggest secrets out in the open, and it only took seconds. Why did she do that? Knowing when to shut up had never been her strong suit, but this? This was bad. The whole school would probably know about the weird new girl with dead parents by lunchtime. So much for the fresh start. All of her hopes for the next two years at this school were gone.

And actually, she thought she'd feel worse. Oddly, she felt a weight lifted off of her shoulders. Maybe she'd put too much pressure on herself. That wasn't exactly unlike her. And hey, when it came down to it, she hadn't said all that much anyway. Not the why they were dead, or the how, just the when and the fact itself. That wasn't so gossip worthy, was it? Lots of kids had dead parents. This probably wasn't as bad as she thought. There was that stupid optimism again, getting her into trouble.

She took her seat, ignoring the stares of the other students as she grabbed an extra syllabus from Harris' desk.

"Wow," the boy whispered from next to her, "You don't mess around, do you?" And suddenly she felt a little better, even if her hands were still shaking and her breath was uneven. At least he seemed more impressed than anything else.

"Uh, Stilinski, right?" She whispered back, scanning the paper in front of her, trying to calm down.

"Yeah. Well, Stiles, actually." He told her sticking his hand out a little awkwardly for her to shake. A look of regret instantly crossed his face, but before he could withdraw the offer, she grabbed his hand and shook it a little mockingly. If he noticed how sweaty her palms were, he didn't say anything.

"A handshake." She quipped with a smile, "How very mature of you, Stilinski."

"Yep, very mature. That's what they tell me." He said as he smiled back, and she immediately recognized her statement from earlier.

"Somehow, I doubt that."

The rest of the class, her eyes were glued to the clock, an occasional glance spared to the board to make sure she wasn't missing anything important. It was almost painful to watch the second hand and she could have sworn that it had stopped a few times as an hour rounded out.

When there was only moments to go, she was shoving the newly gotten chemistry book in her bag and pulling it onto her shoulder, unable to wait any longer.

Her current plan? Be out the door the second the bell rang and no later. Hopefully she would bypass Harris, and he wouldn't have a chance to chastise her. Or question her. Or say anything to her at all really. But if she didn't time it just right, it wouldn't work. She needed to be lost in the throng of students and pray that by tomorrow he would forget all about the incident. Her fingers drummed on the desk like they usually did when she was anxious. Sparing a glance over to Stiles next to her, he seemed to be anxious too. What exactly was on his mind that had him so worked up?

Finally the bell rang signaling the end of class and she jumped from her seat, brushing past the other students to be the first out into the hall. Olympic sprinters would've been impressed as she made her way around the corner, almost body checking a pretty brunette girl digging around in her locker. Oh god, right. Her locker…

Her schedule was a crumpled mess in her pocket, and she had to squint a little to read through the folds, but it looked like her locker was on this floor. Number 1721. She made sure the map wasn't upside down as she navigated back around corners and successfully found it, uncomfortably close to the principal's office, she might add. Maybe someone there was trying to keep an eye on her. She really needed to get her hands on that damn file.

The combination was listed under the locker number and she spun it in, unloading her newly gotten Chemistry book and a few extra folders. On the inside door, souvenirs from past students stuck permanently to the metal – a mirror and some older stickers, and she picked at the edges of a mudflap girl to no avail.

She jumped as the bell rang again, glancing down at her phone and cursing how fast time seemed to past when she didn't want it to. This one meant it was time for her to stumble around looking for her English class. Yay. But the bell didn't stop ringing after a few seconds like it should, and she looked around at the other student's confusion, confirming that she wasn't, in fact, crazy. At least not this time. Small comforts.

Suddenly though, the bell grew louder, like the pipes had in the shower earlier that morning. Her hands flew to her ears in an effort to block out the shrill ringing.

"No." She whimpered, "Not again. Not here. Please." Her head was pounding, the sound echoing as if it was bouncing around inside her skull. The time between the last two occurrences was days, but now she could expect this, what? Every couple of hours?

She doubled over in pain, leaning on to the lockers for balance as the sound persisted. It was so loud it made her dizzy. Pinching her eyes shut tight, she sank to the floor, sure that this time her ear drums would really and truly burst. Then the noise stopped, like it always did. It was probably too much to ask that everyone around her had heard it too, and she was hesitant to find out. Maybe if she just stayed here, crouched on the floor with her head between her knees, everyone would go away.

Probably not.

So she slowly lifted her head and opened her eyes. The hallway was full of students, wide eyes set on her, and this time, it wasn't just her imagination. Some looked confused, but most of them just looked afraid, and that made her afraid. And also embarrassed. It only took seconds for their fearful expressions to change to more judgmental ones.

"So weird." They whispered.

"What's wrong with her?" They whispered.

"I heard her parents are dead."

"Well I heard she killed them."

Unaffected by the whispers and stares, the boy from last night, Stiles, was crouched down next to her, eyebrows knotted in concern.

"How many times have I told you?" He asked, grabbing her arm and pulling her up, "That if you get headphones wet, they electrocute you?" _Nice save, dork._

"Apparently not enough times." She replied, closing her locker door and leaning back against it, rubbing her ear for effect while she also tried to remain standing on trembling legs. As if that was enough of an explanation, Stiles shot a look to all the staring students around the pair, then waved his arms to carry home the point.

"Nothing to see here. The girl's fine. Move it along, people." The look he turned on her though told her that he knew things were clearly and most certainly not fine. Not ready to walk on her own just yet but head held high defiantly, she stayed leaned back on the lockers and nodded.

"What the hell was that?" Stiles whisper screamed, waving his arms around again, most of the concern now gone from his face and replaced with confusion and curiosity.

"I don't know." She shrugged, trying to look unaffected. Like this was an everyday occurrence, like brushing her teeth or tying her shoes. And it wasn't a lie. She really didn't know what the hell that was. Sure, she could have volunteered that it wasn't the first time it had happened, and hey, it wasn't even the first time _that day_, but she didn't. Still, she felt like she should say something more. "Something medical, I guess." That answer was even worse though, because of course it was medical. _What else could it be?_

Stiles didn't seem to be buying that she was clueless about it all, but he didn't push it. His eyes did however drift to her neck where they lingered before bulging a little, and he clearly suppressed the urge to flail his arms yet again.

"Your ear." He said, gesturing on himself. "It's…" His words drifted off as she did as she was told and felt at her ears, pulling away blood wet fingers. She quickly wiped at her neck, feeling the blood dripping from her ears all over neck.

"Oh god, you're just making it worse. Come on." With no other choice but to follow, she shakily pushed herself off the lockers and took off after him. He turned a few corners and stopped in front of the bathroom, gesturing for her to clean herself up. She didn't have to be told twice. Wasting no time, she made a beeline for the sink, using soap and paper towels to trace the trail of blood from her right ear, down the side of her face and neck, to where it came to a stop on her collarbone. The blood had smeared but it hadn't dried yet and with a few moments of scrubbing it was like it had never been there. She looked accusingly at the ear in question.

A few weeks before the move, when she registered at Beacon Hills High, she'd gotten a physical. Granted, she had left out the worst parts when she talked to the doctor – the months of debilitating headaches and the lucid, paralyzing nightmares but otherwise she had been given a clean bill of health. Her only excuse for her now bleeding ears was that it was a medical problem. But it wasn't. There _wasn't_ anything medically wrong with her. But that's what she was afraid of. Among other things. She let out a deep sigh, heading back out into the hallway. Surprisingly, Stiles was still there, waiting for her.

"Well, today's been fun." She told him, with a tired smile, "Basically everything on the first day to-do list is checked off already. Reveal secret embarrassingly. Alienate myself from the student body. Bleed from ears. Check, check, and check. Now all I need is someone to shake me by the ankles and try to steal my lunch money."

Stiles shrugged casually. "Hey, there's still time."

"You sure know how to make a gal feel better."

He looked like he didn't know what to say for a moment, but his eyes moved down to the paper in her hand, the class list, which she had almost forgotten on the bathroom sink as she scrubbed the blood from her neck. It was crumpled and a little worse for wear from the experience, but she let him slip it from between her fingers and watched as he scanned it over.

"Well, how's this to make you feel better? I'm in your next class." He raised his eyebrows and pointed to a time and title on the schedule.

"Oh golly gee, just what I always wanted." She said, feigning excitement.

"Meaning I can take you there. Meaning avoiding a repeat of what happened with Harris. Unless you want to make enemies with all your new teachers?"

"By all means, lead the way." She said with a sweeping gesture. Refusing his help would be stupid, and she really _didn't _want another confrontation like the one she had with Harris, even if he did seem like a self-righteous bastard.

She felt like a baby duck as she followed him down hallways and up a flight of stairs, not knowing what else to say to him. Not being one for silence, but at the same time astoundingly bad at small talk, she cleared her throat to get his attention. He seemed to have the same idea however as she sped up to walk next to him.

"So are you always this unlucky, or is it just since you moved here?" The question caught her a little off guard, and she couldn't say that she hadn't been thinking the same thing herself lately, but her mouth opened and closed again a few times before she thought of a response.

"Because of the bleeding ear thing? Or that whole episode of convulsing on the floor like the girl from The Exorcism? I thought we just weren't gonna talk about that. Maybe a good healthy dose of pretending that never happened."

"You'll learn pretty quickly that that isn't my style."

"You mean it isn't your _Stiles_." Her lips pulled together as she tried to hold back a chuckle at her own pun, and he stopped short to send a glare, completely devoid of real anger, her way.

"You did not just say that." When he realized she was only going to answer with a shrug and a shit-eating grin, he turned away and kept walking. "And I don't just mean the ear thing. I also meant the running into a tree because of a charging deer thing. And then there was the whole Harris trying to make you look like an idiot thing. Not to mention that half the school already thinking you're the weirdest girl ever thing. Seems like a lot of unlucky _things_." He finished, emphasizing it for lack of a better word as he ticked them off on his fingers.

"Half the school thinks that, but not you?"

Now it was his turn to shrug. "My life is already pretty freaking weird. I don't think I'm going to catch any of your residual weirdness. Besides, you've already had a pretty shitty Beacon Hills introduction. This is the least I can do. I mean, what's the worst that could happen with the rest of your day?"

He didn't _look_ dishonest. Didn't look like he had any hidden motives or agendas. But who was to say what this boy was thinking? She ignored the general feeling of distrust that rose in her chest and continued on.

"Good God, man. Hasn't anyone ever told you not to say that? It's literally what they say in movies before a big Acme anvil falls on your head, or the axe murder cuts the power or something."

He nodded even though his face said he clearly didn't buy into that particular brand of superstition. "I have heard something like that, yeah. Point taken."

They rounded a corner and just like that, they were in front of room 303. And the second bell hadn't even rung yet. Now she just wished she had paid more attention to how they'd gotten there.

"Here we are. English with…um…" He squinted down at the crumpled paper, "Ms. Blake. I think she's new this year. Shall we?" His voice sounded formal, like this concluded a tour and he had been the welcome wagon.

"No. Let's just stand here."

"You're impossible." He told her, shaking his head as he pushed the door open.

The class was only about half full, but half full still meant half of a classroom worth of student's head swiveling in their direction. A face was instantly familiar (granted she had been keeping an eye out for him) as the other boy from last night. The one with the eyes that glowed to almost an eerie, otherworldly extent in the dark, but had been, or seemed anyway, genuinely concerned for her safety. His eyes darted from her to Stiles, as he put the pieces together of just who she was. It must be hard to forget a crazy bleeding girl you met in the woods.

The boy seemed to be mouthing something to Stiles that turned into a whisper when he took the seat adjacent. Savannah could only hope he wasn't telling his friend about the incident in the hallway but hoping for that seemed pointless, so instead she hoped that he didn't make her sound like a freak. For some reason, she didn't know why, she cared what these people thought. She probably even would have sat next to Stiles as he _was_ the only person she knew by name in the class, but all the seats next to him were full, so she found a seat on the far side of the room next to five rather large bay windows.

The class filled up quickly, and finally a woman who looked a little too old to be a student pushed through the door. Though she did look older, it wasn't by much, looking too young by far to be anywhere near the ages of the other faculty she had already met. The woman was actually quite pretty, with hair styled impeccably and a pencil skirt that stopped just below the knee. Stiles had mentioned she was new, but Savannah wondered if the woman had ever had a teaching job before, and would bet that she hadn't. No one comes to teach a high school class with that much enthusiasm in heels as high as those if they've done it before. Especially not with a spring in their step. She looked at them expectantly, as if she was waiting for something to happen. What looked like trepidation quickly turned into contained excitement as phones all around the room started to buzz.

"The offing was barred by a black bank of clouds, and the tranquil waterway leading to the uttermost ends of the earth flowed somber under an overcast sky – seemed to lead into the heart of an immense darkness." The woman spoke with a reverence that Savannah hadn't expected, following up the quote with a request for each student to turn off their cellphone. Savannah's was still firmly in her pocket buzz-free, as the teacher probably hadn't thought to get new student's phone numbers. She left it there, not wanting to draw attention to herself as the teacher began to speak about the first book they were going to read, passing copies back down the aisles. Even though she wanted to focus, her mind was elsewhere, drawn back to that road with the deer heading towards her.

When she'd dreamt of it last night, it had felt so real. It was hardly the strangest dream she'd had, nowhere near the most frightening, and didn't even come close to the most disturbing, but she couldn't shake the feeling that it meant something – that it meant something was coming that she wouldn't be able to run away from, no matter how much she tried. It seemed a little melodramatic for her taste.

Her attention was caught for a moment, despite all of her thinking, when a woman popped in asking for someone named Scott McCall to be excused. She wouldn't have noticed at all if it were anyone else, but because it was the boy from last night, the one that wasn't Stiles, that stood to leave, she took an interest. So that was his name. Scott. It seemed to fit him well. He glanced over to her, like he wanted to say something, but decided instead to send her a kind smile, the kind that didn't light up a room but warmed it like a sunset, and instantly she got the overwhelming feeling that this guy had a future ahead of him that probably involved puppies and unicorns and mothers asking him to kiss their babies. He seemed like the guy at the ten year high school reunion that went on to be governor or ambassador and even though you wanted to hate him for being successful, even though you wanted to wish bad things on him for being that much better than you, you couldn't because he was just so damned nice. He was _that_ guy. It was all in the smile.

She glanced back at Stiles, who on the other side of the room was talking up a pretty strawberry blonde girl who seemed less than interested in anything he had to say. A brunette followed their conversation, seeming rather amused at the two.

It was easy, as Ms. Blake began to speak again, to lose focus and her eyes drifted out the window to the crisp blue sky, clouds moving past to take shape. The drone of the woman's voice faded out almost completely, another sound simultaneously rising above it. It sounded like the rush of water or static electricity. Like white noise or the crackling of a dying fire. It sounded like something massive and it only got louder. She felt again like she was staring in awe at the deer in the middle of the road - like she couldn't take her eyes off the wild animal as it came closer and closer to her.

It took her a moment to recognize this as what she had experienced earlier. It was a shift in her hearing, like with the pipes or the bell, but more controlled, more streamlined. There was no need to cover her ears this time and she knew somehow for a fact that there would be no blood.

Savannah couldn't stop herself from rising to her feet and heading for the window. The sound suddenly began to fade though even as she moved towards it, not as if it was moving further away, but as if someone had just turned down the volume. It became quieter and quieter until it was gone. Still, she stood frozen by the window, staring expectantly as if the tide were going to come in and sweep them all away.

"Is something wrong?" Ms. Blake's voice hit her all at once, causing a few students to turn her way and she wondered just how long she'd been standing there.

"Three." Said another, different feminine voice that felt like it was both across the room but somehow as loud as if the girl's lips were pressed to her ear.

There was a loud crack behind her, and though she spun fairly quickly, she was almost too slow to see a bird crash with an almost comedic plunk into one of the giant windows, a trail of blood and feathers streaking the glass as it slid down the pane. The murmurs that filled the class were gone, and there was only silence. Savannah's feet were rooted to the floor, only not literally this time, as she stared in disbelief at the red liquid dripping down the glass. Ms. Blake ran to join her at the window as another bird collided not far from the first. Then another hit, then another. With a great rushing sound, the window shattered, glass exploding inwards and sending shards flying into the room. What looked like a heavy black storm cloud of crows flew in, sharp beaks almost reflecting the horror that erupted throughout the class. They flew in almost endlessly, tangling in long hair and scratching down with razor claws.

Savannah pulled herself off the floor, not entirely sure when she had hit the ground, and tried to get her bearings. Her chest was heaving as she struggled to catch her breath and sharp pain stung her cheek, but she ignored it entirely as she began shoving students behind desks in an effort to keep them from the crazed birds' war path. They darted across the room with what almost seemed like purpose, and she couldn't wrap her mind around what exactly would cause them to frenzy like this. Their motive, however, was the least of her concerns as she shrunk away from one that was headed directly towards her. Moving across the room, she noticed that Stiles had already pulled one friend, the strawberry blonde he'd been talking to, to safety. The other was frantic as a bird nipped at her, stabbing with its beak. Grabbing a large binder off of a nearby desk, Savannah smacked the bird from the air, not wasting time as she overturned the desk, and pulled the brunette beneath it. She felt a tight grip encircle her arm as the girl next to her took deep steadying breaths, trying to calm down, fingers tight around an odd bronze medallion that encircled her neck.

"I hate birds." She said hesitantly, looking like she thought she needed an excuse to be afraid. The girl's eyes were wide but they were the only thing in her expression that betrayed her unease, and she released her hold on Savannah's arm, dropping her hand to the floor as if it had never been there.

"I think I hate birds too."

The girl tried to smile in response, but it didn't reach her eyes, not by a long shot, and it ended up looking like more of a grimace. Not knowing what else to say, she peeked her head out around the desk, unsure what to expect.

One last squawk sounded from somewhere to her left, and then the room was silent again, even more silent then just after the first bird had hit, and she took this as a sign that it was safe to come out. As she stood, she surveyed the damage, or more accurately, she took in the rubble surrounding them. Students began emerging from under their desks as well, looking shell-shocked and probably more than a little traumatized. Papers and bits of glass were scattered all over, and the bodies of the birds, dead and bloody, littered the floor, piled high at the foot of the blackboard as if they were intentionally stacked there like morbid building blocks.

Savannah motioned down to the brunette that it was alright for her to come up, and as she rose, her face was stoic and a little confused but gone was the fear she had seen so clearly, almost making her forget that the girl was ever scared to begin with. Next to her, Stiles and the other girl rose from under another desk, both looking unharmed and equally as confused. Savannah looked at Stiles accusingly and pointed a finger at him.

"This is the worst that could happen!" She shout-whispered at him, not wanting to break the silence of the room any more than necessary.

"Point _really_ taken." He said nodding, but then he slumped his shoulders and ran his finger up his cheekbone, like he had to her neck in the hallway. "You're - You're bleeding again." She felt up her face, feeling the annoyingly familiar warmth of the liquid on her fingertips and the sting of another open wound.

"Of course I am." She said with a sigh, "And of course you're not."

"Would you want me to be?" He asked, mocking a look of being wounded anyway.

"No, but this proves your whole unlucky theory nicely, doesn't it?" Savannah told him as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, reaching up to pull a feather from her hair and letting it drift to the ground. "And I'm…"

"Still bleeding." The brunette finished, "I think you have glass in that cut."

"You should get that out before it scabs. You really don't look like you need any more scars." The other girl decided to chime in, earning a look from both of her friends. Savannah wasn't offended though, even if she was supposed to be, because honestly, she just thought it was funny. With everything that was going on, her appearance was really the least of her concerns, but the girl was right, even if there was a little too much natural venom injected into those words to make them just friendly advice.

The brunette rolled her eyes without malice at her friend and shot her a smile. "Nice, Lydia. Real nice. I was going to ask if you were okay, but…."

Lydia was quick with an answer. "Aside from the mental trauma? I'll be fine." Savannah watched her face closely as she spoke with a steady hand coming up to brush some hair out of her eyes. She _did_ look fine – probably a good deal more fine than she should have. However vain her earlier comment may have sounded, she looked almost completely and impressively unaffected by everything that just happened, much more so than anyone around her. A little bewildered, sure, but certainly not mentally traumatized. She looked as if all this if this didn't even merit even a tick on her Geiger counter of weirdness. It also took Savannah a moment to recognize that it was her voice that spoke so clearly in her ear before the birds had punched through the window.

"We should get you to the nurse." The brunette said, focusing again on the deep cut up her cheek, but Savannah shook her head.

"I really think I'm the least of their problems right now." She said, pointing not so discretely to a boy with large peck marks up his arm and another with angry red scratches on his forehead. Both girls nodded, one going to help a shaking Ms. Blake and the other digging through a large red purse and pulling out her phone.

"I figured somebody should call the Sheriff." Lydia covered the mouthpiece and turned to Savannah somewhat condescendingly, "That's usually what we do when weird things happen around here." She could almost hear it ringing as Lydia looked around impatiently waiting for someone to pick up. When no one answered she redialed, turning to her purse and digging through it again. Savannah couldn't tell what she was looking for until she withdrew something small and shiny from a tiny pouch. Tweezers. Lydia shoved them into her hand, mouthing "for your cheek", before turning away and greeting whoever had finally picked up the phone.

"Can I, uh, talk to you in the hallway for a second?" Stiles whispered next to her, moving quickly out the door and giving her little choice but to follow.

"Is this a conversation or a kidnapping?" She whispered back as the door closed gently behind them. He began walking down the hall, and she assumed she was supposed to take the cue to walk with him, so they took a left as Stiles gathered his thoughts. In all the confusion and the chaos, she hoped maybe he hadn't seen, but he had been there the first time. He knew already that something unnatural was happening to her. So whatever he was about to ask, she prepared herself to lie.

For a moment it seemed he wasn't going to say anything as he wrestled with the intricacies of just what to say, but finally he spun on her, looking cautiously to both sides. His hands rose to his hips a little awkwardly and he leaned in like they were a part of some vast conspiracy.

"Why were you at the window?" He chose his words carefully, almost like he was afraid to ask too harshly, fearing that she'd shut him down. But that was going to happen to anyway.

She knew the questions were coming, but still she felt put on the spot. She couldn't think of a lie, and she didn't know the truth, so instead she opted to ignore the question.

"Do you remember where my locker is? I think there was a mirror in there and this glass in my face doesn't exactly tickle."

He let out a sigh, almost like he expected the deflection and asked her its number. When she told him he took off for it, not looking back to see if she was following this time. He didn't seem quite angry, maybe just dejected. And honestly she felt a little bad. Maybe she should lie, if only to make him feel better. That wouldn't exactly assuage her guilt, but maybe it would his. So she put her brain to work to think of something simple, yet convincing.

"I thought I saw them." She said, breaking the silence. He turned to look at her and she gulped almost audibly. "Not that I knew what them was. Just a weird black cloud. Like a plague of locusts or some biblical bullshit like that. I didn't know _what_ I was seeing." He seemed to believe the lie for now, and nodded as they rounded another corner.

"Weird things tend to happen around here. A lot. You'll get used to it."

"And when they do, you call the sheriff. Fast learner." She told him, tapping her temple for affect.

"Most of the time." He added, and before she could question exactly what that little addition meant, he had stopped in front of her locker, again making her feel like he was her tour guide.

She turned in the combination and swung the door open, pulling at the skin around the cut to see just how deep it was. Stiles watched her, looking a little amused as she inched the tweezers forward. This wasn't going to be pleasant. She did not relish the opportunity to go spelunking around in her own face to get out the piece of glass. Even though it was a small shard, it was fairly imbedded in her skin, just short of being deep enough to need stitches.

She just wanted to get it over with, but every time she brought the tweezers up, she flinched and couldn't grasp the glass. On her fourth attempt, she let out a tiny whimper and Stiles, who she had almost forgotten was still there, chimed in.

"Do you need help with that?"

"No." she quickly replied, trying and failing a fifth time.

"Maybe." She told him, pouting a little as she grabbed some gauze left over from her head injury and dabbed up the dripping blood.

He took the tweezers from her gently and positioned himself in front of her, taking a deep breath.

"I'm the one who should be nervous here, you know." His hand shook slightly and she reached for the tweezers, but he pulled them away. "If you can't do it, I understand."

"I'm fine." He said stubbornly, still holding them away from her, but she raised her eyebrows and dropped her head a little.

"Don't you lie to me, Stilinski." She said, feeling like the world's biggest hypocrite.

"I'm just not the best with needles, and hey, now I'm holding these, and when you think about it, tweezers are kind of like tiny needles."

"Hence the freak-out. Your heart is racing." She told him, placing her hand on his chest to feel its thud under her palm. He looked down, startled at the sudden contact. She knew she must have looked rather startled herself as she pulled her hand away as quick as she had put it there, trying to hide her embarrassment. Even she didn't know what that was. She barely knew this kid, and yet here she was, feeling compelled to put her hand on his chest like they were old pals. And over his heart no less. Maybe there was something wrong with her after all. She didn't know how to explain her behavior to herself much less to him, so she just reached for the tweezers again as a distraction. Whether she was trying to distract him or herself she didn't know.

"I can do this." He told her with confidence, steadying his hand as he moved the tweezers towards her face. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath of her own. She felt a quick tug and a sharp pain as the glass was freed from her skin. She cracked an eye open to see Stiles holding a fairly sizable shard. He handed her the roll of gauze, and she turned to clean up the rest of the cut. Without the glass, it didn't seem so bad, and it was a clean pull, not damaging any of the skin around it.

"You did good, kid." She congratulated him, earning a smile. "I didn't doubt you for a second."

"Now who's lying?" He asked knowingly, and she fought to keep the smile on her face. He didn't know just how right he was. She hoped.


End file.
